Odysseus,

I picture her each night
Her hair, the yarn unravel
All the work of a single day
Woven and unwoven
Like the even exchange
Of breath in and out

Her days are split
Between unwelcome suitors
And reflexively scanning the horizon
For the husband of her youth

Waiting.
Holding the wolves at bay
Unspooling the skein of her work
Making it invisible
To save the idea of a man,

Odysseus.